Games: A New Era
by InternetJDWizard
Summary: The pieces were set, the loser determined, the game won. Or at least that's what everyone thought until the villains long-thought dead begin to re-awaken--but not on their home turf...
1. Prologue

Prologue:  
  
Sirzec sat on his self-appointed throne of corruption, gnarled hands intertwined, pointed chin resting upon them as he hunched forward in the lightlessness. His monstrously huge, twisted figure remained unmoving, locked in a paralyzed fixture of concentration. The long hall that housed his royal seat stretched for hundreds of yards in length, lit solely by blue-fire torches; they cast an eerie glow over the walkway, a dim luminescence to devilish to be called light.  
  
The being who was Sirzec was a gruesome creature. His skin, like everything else involved with him, was pure black, hairless and smooth like marble. A single ebony horn protruded from his forehead, a short pointed spear. His body was immense; an 8' frame rippled with muscles. His face was elongated, as if someone had pulled it downwards and stretched it. His chin was pointed, his cheeks thin, and the skin surrounding his horn tight and unwrinkled. His nose resembled that of a wild hog's, large and wide. His mouth housed miniature daggers, blood-stained fangs that rotted with decay.  
  
Sirzec sat, and watched the three worlds with the eyes of his mind. He watched his plans unravel, his emissaries die and his messages falter—the tables had shifted. His was the next move in the game, but he was lost as to what it should be. He thought deeply in the matter, shutting all of his dimension out, giving his entire being into his planning.  
  
It was a long time before he remembered the Resurrection Stone. He had stolen it from his adversary years ago, stashed it away in his fortress along with the countless other artifacts he had taken. As he remembered the red stone, his eyes opened. Black, unfathomable endlessness was contained within them, sinking forever into his irises. A smile crossed his ugly face, the cold, hard corruption of his soul emanating from his pupils. He sat back in the chair, his move finished.  
  
  
  
"Your turn, Aiynae. Let us see what your pitiful mind can concoct this time. I will not lose, this time. This world is MINE!" The galactic warlord raged, hate encasing his words, verbal venom oozing from his tone. Sirzec relaxed in his seat, and closed his eyes once again, waiting for his opponent to complete his turn. 


	2. I

-I-  
  
Zidane Tribal had grown lazy. His adventurous way of life had been thrown out and replaced with a lifestyle that left nothing to be desired. Garnet had made sure that he was properly taken care of, more like a mother would than a wife. But Zidane wasn't complaining.  
  
After his battle with Kuja, all that he had wanted was to find Garnet and spend the rest of his life with her--which he did. She was perfect; beautiful, smart, intuitive and strong--everything that he had ever wanted. As much as he wished he could still live by his old womanizing ways, he was happy with what he had now, and he could control spontaneous urges.  
  
And so because of this resolve to stay put and live with Garnet, he was completely unprepared when Freya Crescent came to Alexandria and asked for his help.  
  
She had grown to be quite an intimidating warrior over the last three years. As tall and powerful as she had ever been, it was a complete shock that she would come to enlist the help of the scrawny youth.  
  
"I can't explain now," she had said hurriedly, "not in full, not here. Just come with me and you'll see with your own eyes."  
  
Though at first reluctant to re-don his old habits, Zidane departed from Alexandria and Garnet to help his old friend in Burmecia anyway. Little did he know that he this was the beginning of an adventure that would dwarf even the one that almost took his life, a journey that would challenge him in ways that he would never have thought possible. 


	3. II

That Sirzec had a Ressurection Stone shocked Aiynae. But it also warned him of the thievery he had been subjected too, and allowed him to put an end to it. He did this immediately, locking up the Gadget Room with more than just locks and bolts.  
  
He was going to have problems now; that much he was sure of. With the Ressurection Stone, Sirzec would be able to bring any three person's he wished back into the game--an awful prospect. It had taken Aiynae thousands of years to destroy the most powerful of Sirzec's emissaries, and now all that work was about to be undone.  
  
If Sirzec was evil, then Aiynae was as "good" a player could get. Adorned in blue robes that covered everything save his head and hands, he had been Sirzec's only worthy opponent for millenia. And he had always won.  
  
This game was different. The pawns were weaker on his side, the environments they lived in unsafe and unguarded. It was the longest game ever played by the two adversaries, and the most exciting at that. There was never a clear winner, never a sure victory, and always a surprise 'round the corner.  
  
Rising from his cushioned seat, Aiynae sighed and closed his eyes, beginning his next turn. He was ready to start. 


	4. III

-II-  
  
Squall Leonhart was very abruptly thrown out of bed, tossed against the wall, and spun around the room in a rather violent fashion. For several minutes he tangoed with the walls of his dorm before finally 'thumping' onto the floor.  
  
For another several minutes Squall did not move. He lay on the scarce- carpeted floor where he had been tossed and evaluated his brand-new aches and bruises. His head hurt more than anything else, especially the left side. Reaching up to touch his temple, he felt warm blood oozing from a small but painful cut.  
  
Before he had ample time to evaluate all his wounds, the door to his room burst open, smacking him on the other side of the head.  
  
"OW," he proclaimed loudly.  
  
"Squall, that you?" It was Irvine Kinneas, the honey-mouthed, clumsy footed cowboy.  
  
"No Kinneas, its Zell. Who the hell else would it be," asked Squall, rubbing his now pounding head. "What'd you come bustin' in here for anyways?"  
  
Irvine slipped intot he dorm and and shut the door behind him. "Sorry about that Squall. You okay man?"  
  
Squall stood up--not an easy task, what with all his bruises, mind you--and looked around his room. His dresser had been knocked over and its contents spilled out all over one side of his room, his bed thrown to the opposite corner, and his desk tipped over.  
  
Disappointed but okay, he turned back to Irvine. "I'm fine. What happened?"  
  
"Well...'s kinda hard to explain Squall. Ya see--"  
  
"What'dya mean hard? Why did I just get slung around my room like a doll?"  
  
"Well..."  
  
"QUIT WITH THE 'WELL'S!"  
  
"Err...someone's crabby this mornin'. Guess I would be too if I was in yer position, tho'. So, what happened. A mountain kind of...err...appeared in front of us. We side-swiped it.  
  
"A mountain...appeared?"  
  
"Yeah, man." Irvine beckoned for him to follow, and exited the room.  
  
Squall qiockly rummaged through the clothes on the floor and picked out his trademark black jacket and pants. After putting them on and looking himself over in the mirror he found shoved under the bed, he followed after Irvine.  
  
When he reached the balcony where Kinneas was waiting, Squall was shocked to find that there really WAS a mountain there--one that shouldn't have been there. It rose up above Esthar, simply emerging from the otherwise flat, barren plains. Atop its snow-covered peaks sat a huge crater, wreathed with a pulsing, green illumination. 


	5. IV

-IV-  
  
The blood-red eye of the firmament smoldered, fixedly watching the earthen walls and sprawling cliff-haven of Cosmo Canyon like. The campfire in the center of the town had long ago consumed itself, and it lay void of the activity that usual surrounded it. The streets and pathways were empty and silent, the usual populace that occupied them during the day lost in the troubled, nightmarish sleep that had plagued them for weeks on end.  
  
Tifa Lockheart jolted into consciousness, catapulted from her disturbing reams into the safety of Bugenhagen's quiet guest room. She breathed first not at all, and then in quick, short, welcomed stints of air. Her heart hammered violently in her chest, a prisoner banging desperately for freedom within the confines of her ribcage. Sweat slid down her temples onto her cheeks and off her shaking chin, dripping onto the maroon sheets. She wiped the trails they left behind from her face and sat hunched over in the bed, head hanging low as she tried to clear her mind of the images her haunted sleep had delivered.  
  
It took several minutes for her to calm herself down. She swung her legs out of the bed and leaned over her knees, putting her hands on her head in an attempt to stop the vertigo that spun her brain in circles. When finally she was stable, she stood up and walked over to the window opposite her bed, dressed only in a black cotton nightshirt. The faint red glow of the morning sun streamed through the glass pane and gave her face a rosy tint as she stared out at the ancient, dusty barriers and barren cliffs of the canyon, surveying its odd beauty and venerable age, comparing its exuding naturalness and security with the dark, sullen streets of Midgar with its mechanical artificiality and uncertain streets, hurried people and dangerous alleys.  
  
As she stood there at the window, the canyon walls obstructing her view of the outside world, she remembered what lay in the distance. She knew what caused the people in Cosmo Canyon to have nightmares every night. She had seen with her own eyes the source of intuitive fear that Bugenhagen and Nanaki and the others in the canyon felt. Something itched at the back of their minds, a worry pulling their thoughts away from normality and luring them into uncertainty and apprehension. She knew what it was.  
  
Tearing her eyes away from the window, Tifa quickly dressed herself in her white top and black shorts, and tied her hair back, and set out from her room to board the Tiny Bronco, newly repaired and painted by Cid Highwind for her frequent visits to her old friends. Her farewells to Bugenhagen and Nanaki would have to wait till another time. She had greatly enjoyed her time at the canyon, but she could not afford to stay away from Midgar for more than a few days. It was odd; she had always wanted to be needed by someone, and she had got her wish: the whole city of Midgar now looked to her for relief from the new danger that arose. After they had shunned her for destroying most of the city, they now begged her to be their saviorâ€"and Tifa gladly obliged.  
  
-----------------------------------------  
  
As she set out from Cosmo Canyon, the morning mists of the shoreline ocean rose up and blanketed the plane in a cloak of gray obscurity. When she was well across the ocean that separated Midgar and the canyon, the bane of the New World came into view: A monstrous tree, rising out of the vast, barren fields of blue, erupting into the sky like a huge spear. Surrounded it was by a mist of its own, a mist conjured by the coming and going of souls that filtered their ways through the crevices of the tree that led to some mysterious place from which no one being ever returned.  
  
The Tiny Bronco cruised past the tree and into the high-towered landing strip atop the Avalanche Tower in Midgar. 


	6. IV

-IV-  
  
The blood-red eye of the firmament smoldered, fixedly watching the earthen walls and sprawling cliff-haven of Cosmo Canyon like. The campfire in the center of the town had long ago consumed itself, and it lay void of the activity that usual surrounded it. The streets and pathways were empty and silent, the usual populace that occupied them during the day lost in the troubled, nightmarish sleep that had plagued them for weeks on end.  
  
Tifa Lockheart jolted into consciousness, catapulted from her disturbing reams into the safety of Bugenhagen's quiet guest room. She breathed first not at all, and then in quick, short, welcomed stints of air. Her heart hammered violently in her chest, a prisoner banging desperately for freedom within the confines of her ribcage. Sweat slid down her temples onto her cheeks and off her shaking chin, dripping onto the maroon sheets. She wiped the trails they left behind from her face and sat hunched over in the bed, head hanging low as she tried to clear her mind of the images her haunted sleep had delivered.  
  
It took several minutes for her to calm herself down. She swung her legs out of the bed and leaned over her knees, putting her hands on her head in an attempt to stop the vertigo that spun her brain in circles. When finally she was stable, she stood up and walked over to the window opposite her bed, dressed only in a black cotton nightshirt. The faint red glow of the morning sun streamed through the glass pane and gave her face a rosy tint as she stared out at the ancient, dusty barriers and barren cliffs of the canyon, surveying its odd beauty and venerable age, comparing its exuding naturalness and security with the dark, sullen streets of Midgar with its mechanical artificiality and uncertain streets, hurried people and dangerous alleys.  
  
As she stood there at the window, the canyon walls obstructing her view of the outside world, she remembered what lay in the distance. She knew what caused the people in Cosmo Canyon to have nightmares every night. She had seen with her own eyes the source of intuitive fear that Bugenhagen and Nanaki and the others in the canyon felt. Something itched at the back of their minds, a worry pulling their thoughts away from normality and luring them into uncertainty and apprehension. She knew what it was.  
  
Tearing her eyes away from the window, Tifa quickly dressed herself in her white top and black shorts, and tied her hair back, and set out from her room to board the Tiny Bronco, newly repaired and painted by Cid Highwind for her frequent visits to her old friends. Her farewells to Bugenhagen and Nanaki would have to wait till another time. She had greatly enjoyed her time at the canyon, but she could not afford to stay away from Midgar for more than a few days. It was odd; she had always wanted to be needed by someone, and she had got her wish: the whole city of Midgar now looked to her for relief from the new danger that arose. After they had shunned her for destroying most of the city, they now begged her to be their saviorâ€"and Tifa gladly obliged.  
  
-----------------------------------------  
  
As she set out from Cosmo Canyon, the morning mists of the shoreline ocean rose up and blanketed the plane in a cloak of gray obscurity. When she was well across the ocean that separated Midgar and the canyon, the bane of the New World came into view: A monstrous tree, rising out of the vast, barren fields of blue, erupting into the sky like a huge spear. Surrounded it was by a mist of its own, a mist conjured by the coming and going of souls that filtered their ways through the crevices of the tree that led to some mysterious place from which no one being ever returned.  
  
The Tiny Bronco cruised past the tree and into the high-towered landing strip atop the Avalanche Tower in Midgar. 


End file.
